


Now I Wanna Be Your Dog

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Dom/sub, Frottage, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Heikki bites back a grin of delight as he knocks the door before him and then drops to his knees, sinking down until he's comfortable and letting his hands come to rest between his legs. Present and correct.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now I Wanna Be Your Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on [](http://f1slash-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**f1slash_kink**](http://f1slash-kink.livejournal.com/): "Heikki is Jenson's puppy." Set before and after the 2010 Bahrain GP. Beta work by the lovely [evaine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evaine).

Jarno notices it a lot sooner than Heikki expected. Goodness knows he's tried not to be so obvious about it, but absent touches at the hollow of his throat, gentle skritches at his neck as he listens to an engineer, have swiftly become habit. His teammate at first asks him if he has a rash coming on, or if he's allergic to his fabric conditioner.

"I...no. I don't think so." Heikki blinks and frowns slightly, nonplussed. "I don't know what you mean exactly."

Jarno looks at him with a bemused smile. "You keep touching your neck." Heikki blanches when Jarno continues, "Did you lose a necklace or something?"

Heikki does his best to assure him that he's imagining things, hand rubbing the back of his neck even as he speaks. Already a habit. Already a _noticeable_ habit.

 

He's shamefully distracted throughout the entire weekend in Bahrain, only ninety percent of his brain focussing on anything. Fortunately the weekend goes well for Lotus and he can head back to the hotel without the guilt of a bad performance hanging over his head. As the lift soars towards his floor, Heikki tells himself to calm down, feeling his heart thrumming in his chest.

"Nearly there," he exhales. "Nearly home." He touches his throat, feeling bereft.

The doors slide open and he practically bounces down the corridor, straight past his room, counting four more doors before he slows to a stop outside the fifth. _Nearly home._ Pausing briefly to steady his breathing and quell his anxiousness, he glances up and down the corridor; it's mercifully empty. Heikki bites back a grin of delight as he knocks the door before him and then drops to his knees, sinking down until he's comfortable and letting his hands come to rest between his legs. Present and correct.

It feels like an age before he hears footsteps and can imagine a wide smile.

The door finally swings open and indeed, there's that smile. "Hey there," Jenson says warmly.

Heikki grins, excitement making his chest feel tight. "Hey there," he echoes impishly.

"How was your weekend?" Jenson asks, leaning against the door and taking in the sight before him.

Heikki fidgets slightly, eager bordering on impatient. "Good," he says shortly and quirks an eyebrow. "Better now."

"Any highlights?"

"You don't have to be an asshole about this."

"Oi," Jenson warns. "Start swearing and you're not getting anything."

Heikki's chin juts out slightly, and though he holds his position, he doesn't hold his tongue. "Train me better, then," he says quietly, insolent challenge accompanying the heat in his eyes.

The silence that follows is thick, but Jenson bites his lip as he nods minutely – approvingly, Heikki would like to think – and when he disappears back into his room, Heikki stays on the floor. The words _I lost a bet_ hover in the back of his mind, ready in case anyone passes by.

Jenson reappears, and Heikki's eyes track down his body until they reach his hand; dangling from his fingertips is a slim, brown, leather collar. _His_ slim, brown, leather collar.

Jenson goes down on one knee in front of Heikki, who sighs softly, happily, closing his eyes and lifting his chin up as the collar is looped around his neck, fingertips brushing skin. The buckle clicks together and the anxiety that had been distracting him for the entire weekend begins to slowly drain from him. The prickle of stubble grazes his throat.

"Good boy," Jenson murmurs, pressing a kiss to his pulse point. He straightens up and strokes Heikki's hair, smiling broadly when Heikki nuzzles into his palm. "Did you miss me?"

"I did," Heikki responds, and there's a guttural note to his voice that gives away too much.

A beat, and Jenson steps back into his room, patting the side of his thigh in encouragement. "C'mon. In you come."

Heikki shifts to his hands and knees and follows obediently, kicking the door closed behind him. He rolls his shoulders as he eyes Jenson, who is settling into a large chair across the room, and pads towards him. Warmth stirs in the pit of his stomach at Jenson's lazy smile, the way he's slouched there, legs spread, waiting. Once in front of the chair, Heikki arches invitingly, turns and presses himself against Jenson's leg, humming happily when a hand reaches forward to scratch behind his ear.

"Mmm, this is supposed to be therapeutic, you know," Jenson says, sounding a little sleepy. "Stroking a pet. Good for the mind, nice and relaxing."

Blushing slightly at the term _pet_ , Heikki resists the urge to comment on being good for the body as well and turns his head to nose at Jenson's fingers, licking them delicately before taking one into his mouth. Jenson watches him wordlessly as he sucks gently on the digit, running his tongue in a slow, circular motion over each of the pads. He couldn't have been clearer about his intentions if he had arrived with a sign around his neck saying 'let's have sex'.

Jenson smirks. "You're looking for some attention tonight, aren't you? D'you want a belly rub?"

Heikki whines needily, abandoning Jenson's hand to twist around fully and nuzzle at the inside of his thigh, giving him an imploring look. He smells fabric, traces of sweat, musk – it's all a tease to him and Jenson knows it. He wouldn't have invited him in if he didn't want more. Jenson spreads his legs wider and Heikki grins, shifting closer, continuing to nuzzle at Jenson through his trousers. As Heikki moves in, the musk grows incrementally stronger until he reaches Jenson's crotch. He inhales deeply and shivers.

"You want a bit more than a belly rub?," Jenson drawls, a slight roughness to his voice now. His hips lift and Heikki nuzzles deeper, letting out a soft moan when he feels half-hardness there.

"I want more than a belly rub," Heikki finally responds a little breathlessly, words muffled as he noses at Jenson's crotch. He feels unusually ineloquent. "Want to taste you. _Want you._ " He shudders again. "You smell good."

He teases at Jenson's fly, mouthing the fabric, worrying at the zip, occasionally catching it between his teeth and tugging gently. In fact, he's so caught up in this slow build that he flinches when Jenson cups his chin, lifting his head slightly. Jenson's other hand rather deftly unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his fly and draws his zip down.

Heikki doesn't need further invitation and pulls free of the hand at his chin, climbing up until he's draped over the lower part of Jenson's body and dipping his head to work the button on Jenson's boxers undone with his tongue and teeth. He burrows until he finally tastes warm skin, feels hardness under his tongue, and it's enough to make him whimper. Jenson seems to appreciate it equally; Heikki hears him make a low noise in the back of his throat, feels his thighs tense and hips rise, and when Heikki's mouth closes around Jenson's cock, a gloriously long moan reaches his ears. He would grin with such pleasure if his lips weren't so busy.

His head bobs at speed – he doesn't want to tease, never does by this stage, because it's as much torture for him as it is for Jenson – nose burying into dark curls when he swallows around Jenson's head, and he falls into an easy cadence when Jenson begins to rock into his mouth.

"Good boy," he hears Jenson whisper, feeling a hand skritch the back of his head, "Such a good boy, that's it..." The words slip through him, thrumming along with the heat and desire and bliss burning bright in his body, and before long his own hips begin to buck intermittently, cock aching and confined his jeans. He breathes heavily through his nose, groans, squirms, needing.

Jenson's leg shifts, slipping between Heikki's thighs so it's pressing against his crotch; the stimulation of extra friction makes Heikki whine until he's rutting against Jenson's outstretched lower leg, gripping at the chair's arms for purchase. When Jenson moans, Heikki moans, and their feverish movements find a curious staccato rhythm together.

Heikki's wicked mouth soon has Jenson arching off the back of chair, fingers tangled in blond hair, cock buried in wet warmth. Heikki lifts his head to flick his tongue across the slit, eliciting wonderful profanities and a panted command not to stop from the man beneath him, and he makes incoherent noises in response; Jenson thrusts into his mouth faster, deeper, and he matches the movement of those hips with his own.

Breath coming in gasps, thigh muscles straining, Jenson's hips lift clean away from the chair as he comes. Heikki still moves with him, always moves with him and takes everything he gives, swallowing and revelling in the fresh swell of heat within him. His pace grows frantic with the desire for more friction, one hand fumbling to pull Jenson's leg harder against his crotch.

Jenson's softening cock slips free of Heikki's mouth as his climax hits, the Finn crying out at the release. Seized with pleasure and momentarily lost to the world, his grip fails; he feels a hand clamp onto his arm, and it keeps him from sliding hopelessly onto the floor whilst he rides out his orgasm.

Once spent, Heikki laps wantonly at the head of Jenson's cock, dazed and still craving. When the sound of a tired chuckle reaches his ears, he pulls himself up, clambering onto Jenson for a messy kiss, licking at thin lips until they part for a deeper taste; he knows Jenson can taste himself, and he lets out a faint growl. The growl becomes a whine when Jenson's hand settles on his ass and squeezes. "Good boy," Jenson purrs against his mouth, kissing him harder. "Yes you are."

As Heikki's breathing returns to normal and his mind clears, he moves to drizzle damp little kisses down Jenson's neck, pawing at his chest and settling as comfortably as he can into his lap.

"Hey, you shouldn't jump up," Jenson belatedly admonishes, not sounding as though he particularly cares. "Naughty."

"Why? I could be a lapdog," Heikki protests, tilting his head. "I'm not so big."

"Big enough!" Jenson exclaims, squirming under Heikki's weight. A moment of dual giggling at the smutty implication of Jenson's words and Heikki nuzzles under Jenson's stubbled chin, positively beaming and utterly content. He fingers the collar around his neck and ponders asking for a nametag. He likes the term _nulikka_.

"I'm your little puppy."

Though Jenson laughs, his arm circles around Heikki and pulls him close.


End file.
